What Not to Wear
by badhairdays
Summary: Kono is wearing a dress. Steve may have a problem with that.


**What Not To Wear**

Kono is wearing a dress. Steve may have a problem with that.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

A/N: Could be read as a sequel to "The Relatively Easy Seduction of Steve McGarrett" but you don't have to read that to know what's going on in this one. This is for cm757, who was having an identity crisis and needed to be reminded of the awesomeness of this ship. Did it work?

**···················**

"Cute dress." Lori remarks casually, looking up from her ipad to give Kono an approving once-over. Kono smiles and opens her mouth to thank her but is rudely interrupted.

"Oh my god. Why are you—what are you wearing?" Danny exclaims in fascinated horror, eyes darting over her wildly as if he's afraid to look too closely or too long. Kono looks down at herself, frowning.

"It's a dress." She explains, drawling the words out slowly. "A garment considered to be an item of women's apparel in most Western cultures. Also known as a frock, or a gown—you've seen me in dresses before, Danny."

"I've seen—?" He shakes his head as if denying the fact. "Oh no. Not in this dress."

"There's nothing wrong with my dress." Kono states, looking over at Lori who gives her a reassuring nod.

Danny lifts his eyebrows pointedly. "Babe, I've seen you in _bikinis_ that manage to make you look more clothed." He pauses for effect. "Really small bikinis."

Kono stares at him blankly for a sec. "I'm leaving." She announces, before Danny can somehow earn himself a harassment suit. She's only taken a few steps before she's-once again-thwarted.

"Hey, Kono, did you send me the—_what the_ _hell_?"

Steve is swearing. That is never a good sign. When Steve starts swearing during office hours, you know you need to get down and take cover. Sometimes you need to get down, take cover, then leave an unidentifiable body behind to fake your own death and get away from INSERT NAME OF PERSON/PEOPLE/ORGANISATIONS THAT ARE TRYING TO KILL/TORTURE/MAIM YOU.

So when Kono turns around to face him, she's understandably a bit apprehensive.

"Yeah?" She tries hesitantly, seeing Steve in full on aneurysm face.

"What. Are. You. Wearing?" He says, slowly, stressing each word in what Kono can only assume is some misguided effort to intimidate her. Everyone is really interested in her wardrobe all of a sudden.

Kono puts an arm on her hip, raises an eyebrow. "We've only just established I'm wearing a dress." She says dryly. "We've also established no one I work with knows what a dress is."

"Except me." Lori chips in.

Damn. She keeps forgetting about Lori.

"Except Lori." Kono amends her statement. Steve frowns, not looking amused in the least.

"Where are you going in that?" It's Kono's turn to frown, because she has a sinking feeling she's not dealing with Commander McGarrett, Super SEAL extraordinaire and her boss, anymore. No, this is Steve being _Steve_ and apparently assuming that just because he's sleeping with her he gets instant veto power on her outfits.

"Out." She says tersely, when what she really wants to say is _none of your fucking business._ She drops her arms to her sides, clenching her fingers tightly, and the way she's glaring at him? Most people would have backed off by now. But, of course, Steve is not most people.

"Out where?"

"For drinks."

"By yourself?"

"With Kelly."

"You got all dressed up for _Kelly_?" He scowls, looking doubtful.

"You guys sure you want to have this argument here?" Danny interjects, gesturing to indicate the room in general even as his eyes drift over to Lori to make his point. Right. Other people in the room. Noted. Kono takes a breath, unclenches her fists.

"I'm going now." She announces with finality. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Officer Kalakaua." Steve calls sharply, and she's startled enough by his pulling rank to freeze in her tracks. "Can I see you in my office?" This is deceptively formed as a question, when it's clearly an order—she chokes back her anger and follows him to his office, walking past Danny who is looking at her as if to say, see? This is why you don't date Neanderthal animals.

**···················**

Kono is very aware of the glass walls, and right now she's grateful because it means there's less chance of her actually giving into any impulse to slap him.

"What the hell, Steve?" She says slowly. She tries to keep her face blank, just in case Lori can read micro expressions in addition to body language. But who is she kidding. Lori can probably read lips, she's so obnoxiously adept at everything.

"You are not going anywhere in this dress." Steve folds his arms across his chest, stretching his t-shirt along finely sculpted muscle, and this is _so_ the wrong time to be swooning over _oh what big arms_ he has.

"I'm not sure why I have to spell it out for you, Steve." Kono's voice is trembling with indignation. "But you can't tell me what to do. You can't tell me what to wear. And you definitely can't make a scene about it at work."

"You will go to your locker and change back into your clothes. We can fight about this later." Steve states in a menacing tone, clenching his jaw.

"Steve. You are being…not only unreasonable, you are being straight up _psychotic_. Like certifiable, diagnosed _crazy_. And you need to snap out of it before I punch you in the face."

"Look, I know you get off on being a fucking cocktease, but one day it will get you in tr—"

She slaps him. She puts some force behind it and her hand stings—it hurts her more than it hurts him, probably, but it's the principle of the thing and if nothing else, it gets him to stop talking.

"I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you." She whispers dangerously. "But you better get over it because I'm going out for drinks and I'm wearing this dress and what you say and do next is going to determine whether you still have a girlfriend in the morning."

Steve's eyes are burning with some emotion—she can't be bothered to try and work out what he's thinking or feeling right now. They stare at each other for a few minutes and it doesn't look like Steve will say anything else so eventually she turns to leave.

"And you better fucking apologize."

She closes his office door behind her noisily. When she walks past Danny and Lori again they're very busy pretending to be absorbed in something other than watching the latest office drama unfold.

**···················**

She ends up heading home early, too upset to enjoy her night out with Kelly even after a couple of drinks. When she pulls into her driveway Steve is sitting on her porch steps, waiting and she can tell from the stiff set of his shoulders he's still wound up. She fleetingly considers driving off again, if only to spare them both another argument. Then again, avoiding conflict is not really her style.

She walks past him, getting out her keys to unlock the door.

"This is not a good time, Steve." She can see him getting up, taking a step towards her as she turns to block his way in. "I mean it." She insists, staring at him steadily to try and communicate how little patience she has for his bullshit. Steve's face stays impassive though, and he only steps closer.

"Did you have fun with Kelly?" He asks in a quiet voice, staring at her intensely and there's something about his tone that makes her tense up in apprehension. He's close enough now that when he speaks she can smell the alcohol in his breath.

"Are you drunk?" She asks carefully, taken aback. Steve doesn't really drink much—as a guy with major control issues the thought of lowered response time and inhibitions is too distressing to contemplate. Well, that's _her_ theory at least.

"No. I had a couple of drinks earlier." He offers, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She fights a ridiculous impulse to shrink back, keeping her face closed off as she stares him down. "How about you, Kono? Anyone buy you a drink?"

He's being ridiculous and she's had enough of his weird insecure crap for today, so she takes a step back, tries to inch the door closed. "Look, I'm tired. Let's not do this right now."

"I'm sure they did. I'm sure a lot of guys tried to buy you a drink." He ignores her, stepping forward again. "That dress sure is something." He notes dispassionately, his fingers going to touch one of the thin straps on her shoulder. "Did you let them?" He asks, his voice dropping another octave as he takes a step closer and kicks the door closed behind him. She's pressed up against him now, one of his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Did I let them what?"

"Buy you a drink. Hit on you." His hand burns a path down the back of the damned dress, down until his fingers are toying with the hemline. "Touch you." He leans down to kiss her as his fingers slip under the dress, higher up her thigh, and— He makes a strangled sound, pushes her body back until she's pinned to the wall.

"You're not wearing any underwear." He growls, sounding furious. So nice of him to notice. "What the fuck are you even thinking? Did you let some asshole put his hand up your dress and—"

"The only asshole copping a feel right now is you, Steve." She snaps at him, trying to sound pissed when she's just—really turned on, actually.

He kisses her, lips bruising her mouth as his hands trace patterns along the short dress.

"You are so fucking infuriating." He pants out, and then his hand is pulling at the strap of the dress until it rips. She lets out a startled gasp, too stunned to do anything but stand there as he takes her mouth again, kissing her like he means it. He starts tugging on the fabric forcefully, ripping and pulling until it's hanging uselessly around her waist, leaving her chest bare and—why in god's name is she letting him ruin a perfectly good dress?

She pushes at his shoulders lightly and he breaks away, moves back so he can look at her face, his eyes dark. He glances down at the torn dress, gaze lingering on the skin it's left exposed.

"I guess you can't wear the dress again." He says in a matter of fact voice, with all the self-assurance of a man that always gets his way because he's an arrogant asshole, obviously, and she should just…throw him out. Yes, that's what she should do, and she _will_, she totally will, just—after the sex, maybe?

His hands go to the back of her thighs, and she grabs a hold of his shoulders as he lifts her to wrap her legs around him. He tangles a hand in her hair, pulling her down in a kiss that leaves her shaking, her fingers struggling to unzip his jeans because—yeah, kissing Steve can genuinely make her forget basic motor skills.

Her mouth feels bruised by now, Steve nipping at her bottom lip teasingly and she doesn't know why the fuck he's hesitating suddenly. He brings a hand to the side of her face, searching her eyes carefully.

"This is okay, right?"

She stares at him incomprehensibly for a moment until it occurs to her he's asking for _permission_. Of all the ridiculous notions—

"_Yes._" She says in a clearly frustrated tone of voice and it works because he holds her hips against the wall, driving forward and making her eyes roll back, mouth falling open. "God, Steve—"

Steve kisses her again, and she takes this to mean no more talking.

She still expects an apology at some point.

**···················**

She doesn't throw him out after all, mostly because she passes out in exhaustion before she can get around to it. When she gets up in the morning he's waiting for her in the kitchen with a plate of chocolate soufflé from that overpriced patisserie she likes, probably as a peace offering. That's…actually kind of smart. Plying her with chocolate is a sure way to put her in a more forgiving mood.

"Hey." He smiles hesitantly. He's just in his boxers, probably trying to work every angle like a good little strategist, but hey. She's not going to complain if it means she can spend the morning ogling his bare chest.

"Hey." She nods at him, grabbing a spoon and unceremoniously attacking her chocolate soufflé. Steve is leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at her pensively.

"Three hundred and fifty." She offers.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Calories." She clarifies. "The chocolate soufflé. It looked like you were wondering."

"Oh."

There's a pause. Clearly, Steve was not contemplating the calories. She must have been projecting. Huh.

"I'm sorry." Steve states, looking at her intensely. "I thought—I know Kelly is Charlie's cousin and I thought…Anyway, I'm sorry. I was out of line." He really was.

"We were at _work_, Steve." Kono points out softly. "Danny and Lori were right outside."

"I know. I realize… how it must have looked. I'm sorry." He repeats earnestly.

"I just don't understand what brought this on." Kono counters, trying to get where he's coming from. Steve sighs, drops his head.

"Look." He starts tentatively. "Before yesterday I wasn't even sure what this was." He explains, waving a hand between them. "You've never said anything, and I wasn't sure how to bring it up. And it was pissing me off."

Kono looks at him with wide eyes, because it really seems like Steve is trying to have a conversation about their _relationship status_ of all things, completely at his own instigation.

"I'm…sorry?" She tries, not sure what she's supposed to say to this. Steve scoffs at her halfhearted response, tries again.

"And then suddenly you're going out with Kelly and god knows who else, without ever mentioning anything to me, and I—I just lost it, I guess." He exhales, looking honestly regretful, and how can she stay mad at him when he just basically admitted to feeling insecure about the previously-undetermined-status of their relationship? She just can't.

"Okay." She says finally. "Fine. Apology accepted." She'll still make sure she snaps at him in front of the team this week, because everyone knows about the fight and she doesn't want them to think she's a push over or anything.

She licks her spoon clean, looking at her now empty plate regretfully, then stands up to dump it in the sink. She's almost out the door when she notices Steve hasn't moved an inch.

"Um. Are we getting ready for work, or…?"

"Yeah. Right. In a sec." He promises. "I just wanted to make sure—You know, that we're on the same page now."

Kono looks at him blankly.

"On the…thing." He trails off, waving his hand between them again and looking decidedly uncomfortable. It's kind of cute. She takes pity on him, mostly because she suspects they'll be here all day if she doesn't.

"Sure. Same page. Same paragraph, even." She assures him, turning to leave.

"Great, so that means you'll let me know when you're going out with friends or anything?" Steve asks to confirm. She turns to face him again, praying for patience.

"Sure."

"And—it's exclusive, or whatever?" He presses, looking a bit anxious.

"Yes, Steve." She confirms with a put upon sigh.

"Good. That's good." He nods to himself, pleased as punch.

"Okay then."

She waits a bit, just in case he comes up with another question, then leaves to get dressed before he can stop her again. She's just stepped in the shower when the curtain is pulled back, and she doesn't need to look to know that Steve is standing there.

"So you're, like, my girlfriend?"

Kono glares at him.

"Yes, Steve."

"Okay then. Just checking." He goes to close the shower curtain, but Kono puts a hand on his arm to stop him. He raises an eyebrow in question and Kono rolls her eyes.

"Well, you're here now, you might as well join me."

Steve smiles at her handsomely. See? This is why she keeps him around. He has dimples.

"I thought you'd never ask."

**···················**

The end.**  
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